The Joys Of Parenting
by SpobyFicStalker
Summary: "Six times Spencer and Toby did it better than their own parents." Spencer and Toby with triplets Lawrence, Cleo and Eloise. Oneshot.


A/N: Hey, guys! This is another idea that I've had in my head for months but got sidetracked because of the train wreck on the show. It features the triplets that I've used in two of my previous stories: Where His Demons Hide and Love Story. This one is a little different in the sense that it explores Spencer and Toby's roles as parents a bit more deeply, while in the past the kids helped me show their parents' relationship from a different angle more than anything else. At the risk of sounding self-promoting, you might want to read Where His Demons Hide before this one if you haven't already. Each of the kids are introduced in that story, and in this one I really build on their individual personalities from there. For my longtime readers: hopefully you guys aren't sick of these kiddos yet. They've just become so real to me that writing them now comes as easily as writing Spencer and Toby themselves. Also, it's convenient that I don't have to spend time establishing and explaining their individualities before I can get to the good stuff. If that makes sense. Haha.

Wow. I did not mean for that to get this long. LOL. Long story short: if the triplets annoy you, feel free to skip this story. I won't take offense. :)

And now there's nothing left for me to do but thank you all for your reviews and support. Merci beaucoup! Je vous aime! (I've run out of ways to say it in English so I thought I'd try French, which is the language of Spoby as you all know. I'm a dork. Sue me.)

* * *

 **The Joys Of Parenting**

 _Six times Spencer and Toby did it better than their own parents:_

 _I_

"It's not working," Spencer said in distress, her voice an odd mixture of frustration and helplessness. "Nothing I do is working."

Toby looked about as miserable as she felt from his spot on their messed up bed while she walked around the darkened room with their exhausted yet very unhappy one-year-old.

"Want me to try?" he asked helpfully, and she could have kissed him.

She handed over the screaming baby, along with the sippy cup she had been trying to entice her with. After numerous failed attempts at getting their daughter to take a bottle, Spencer had switched to the sippy cup in the hopes that it might work better.

So far, no luck.

"Come on, Ellie," Toby was murmuring in his warm, comforting voice. "Just give it a chance. It's almond milk, it's good for you…"

Spencer fell back on the bed, not knowing how much more of this she could take. All day, Eloise would be fine. She would toddle around the house with her brother and sister, play peek-a-boo like a pro and warm Spencer's heart with her blue eyes and sweet smile. She was adjusting well to Spencer's decision to stop breastfeeding now that the kids had celebrated their first birthday.

But unlike Lawrence and Cleo, their lastborn still did not sleep through the night. She woke up anywhere between one and five times, and what had been a slight inconvenience before was now turning into a full-blown disaster.

It was as if Eloise didn't know how to get back to sleep without the comfort of nursing. She would push the bottle away in frustration and cry and cry until exhaustion pulled her under.

The first night Spencer had told herself they needed to give it time. The second night she could already feel her resolve weakening, and by now – the third night in a row where she had to listen to her daughter's agonizing wails – she realized she had finally reached her breaking point.

"Screw it," she muttered, getting up from the bed and walking over to where her husband was still unsuccessfully trying to feed their child. Without a word, she took the baby from him, lifted the long-sleeved shirt of his that she slept in and brought little Eloise up to her breast.

The change was instant. The baby latched on and started drinking like she was starved, her red-rimmed eyes drooping with fatigue. Spencer let herself sink back down to the bed, unable to take her eyes off her beautiful, soothed child as she ran her fingers through a mop of messy blond hair. She felt the indent of the mattress as Toby joined her, slowly lying down on his back while his hand curled around her hip almost absentmindedly.

It only took a few minutes. Eloise's eyes fell shut and didn't reopen, and Spencer felt her little body go heavy with sleep. Quiet as a mouse, she got up from the bed and went to put the baby down in the nursery across the hall.

She couldn't look Toby in the eye when she got back in bed with him, which he noticed almost instantly. He sat up and wrapped an arm around her, and it was all he had to do for her to spill her guts.

"I'm a failure as a mother."

Toby let out a sound that suggested that this was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "No, you're not. You're an amazing mother."

"I can't even get my own baby to take a bottle," she went on, realizing she was closer to tears than she would have liked.

"So just nurse her then," he offered up like it was the simplest solution in the world. "It won't last forever. She'll sleep through the night eventually."

Spencer's throat was suddenly tight. "I can't do that. It's not fair to Lawrence and Cleo."

Toby didn't say anything, and Spencer figured he just didn't understand. But then he spoke the words that would set her free.

"You're not favoring her," he assured quietly. "This doesn't mean you love her more. Different kids have different needs. It's okay to play into that."

She registered that her whole body was tense and her hands were clenched in fists. It was something that had terrified her since the second they found out they were having multiples – the idea that one child would feel less loved than another.

All through her childhood, Spencer had lived with the conviction that if her parents could only save one of their two children from a burning building, they would choose Melissa. The mere thought of her own kids having the same fears, even a little, was too unbearable to even entertain.

But now she looked into the calm of Toby's eyes, almost asking for permission. She had done so many awful things in her life that she didn't trust her own morals the way she trusted his.

"If you say it's okay," she spoke in a low voice, "I'll believe it."

He kissed her forehead, and with his lips still lingering on her skin he whispered, "It's okay."

She turned her body into his, grasping him greedily. "I couldn't do this without you," she told him with tears in her voice even if there were none on her face. "This whole parent thing. I wouldn't know where to start."

He held her tighter and she could feel him smile in her hair. "Good thing I plan on sticking around then."

She laughed a little, and so did he. "Come on," he smiled, giving her a quick kiss and maneuvering them both into a horizontal position under the covers. "Let's get some shut-eye before our little insomniac decides it's time for us to get up again."

Like magnets their bodies molded together, and it wasn't long before oblivion settled over them.

 _II_

There were few sounds in this world that Spencer adored more than the racket that came from the bathroom when Toby gave their kids a bath.

From day one he had taken this task upon him is his bonding time with them. Spencer had delighted in his wanting to be this involved, since she'd heard of first-time fathers feeling left out from the almighty connection between a mother and her newborn. The last thing she wanted was for her husband to feel excluded from yet another fundamental occurrence in his life.

Three years later the tradition still stuck, and bath time was still what the kids called 'Daddy time'. Spencer would finish up in the kitchen while Toby took their trio upstairs, and when she was done she would help him get them out and they would tackle the final chore of putting them to bed together.

On usual evenings she would hear laughter and splashing and happy voices that called out, "Daddy, look!" But tonight as she headed up the stairs she noticed it was strangely quiet, and it was only when she was outside the door that she heard Toby's familiar voice speaking gently.

"Our private parts are the parts that our swimsuit covers," he explained. "They're special. No one is supposed to touch them, especially if they're hurting you. And if they do, you say no and then you come tell Mommy or me."

He said it so mildly – like he was telling them a story about fairies and daffodils – that it took a moment for Spencer to register that her husband was having a conversation about sexual abuse with their three-year-old triplets.

Only he could pull this off, she thought. Only he could talk about a subject this grave without making a big deal out of it, without scaring them or making them uncomfortable. When Spencer peered into the bathroom, she saw that all three kids were not fidgeting or poking each other for once but hanging on to his every word, and they didn't seem alarmed in the least.

"It's not nice to say no," Cleo frowned. It was what she had learned during politeness week in pre-school.

"You're allowed to say no when someone's doing something to your body that you don't like," Toby assured her in the same calm tone. "You're the boss over your own body, and you're the only one who gets to make decisions over what happens to it. You don't have to hug or kiss anyone you don't want to. You don't have to sit on anyone's lap if you don't want to. I will always back you up on this, and so will your mom. We'll always be on your side."

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of the tub and looking the kids straight in the eye. "You guys know that, right? That we love you and we'll always be on your side?"

Spencer saw three little heads bob up and down solemnly. She didn't know why she suddenly felt like crying.

"Good," Toby said, before addressing their son lightheartedly. "Lawrence, let's see your super splash now."

"No!" the girls shrieked, and with a smile Spencer thought that now might be an ideal time to cut in.

Two hours later, the kids were long in bed and their parents were enjoying a bath of their own. They sat on opposite ends of the tub, Spencer between his feet with her ankles crossed against his chest. They were surrounded by white foam and in the company of two elegant glasses of red wine.

It wasn't uncommon that did this after a long day. It just seemed a hell of a lot more satisfying than falling in front of TV and missing out on conversation that, whether they liked it or not, often got sabotaged around their offspring.

"I heard what you were talking about before with the kids," Spencer suddenly said quietly. She hadn't meant for it to come out of the blue like this, but it was as if she just couldn't hold it in any longer.

Toby just nodded. "Yeah. I figured you might have."

He had known. He had known by the look on her face when she walked in, despite their three overly animated children.

He sighed. "I know they're still young, but… we need to make them conscious about–"

"You're a saint," she interrupted him, her voice tight. "They needed to know about this stuff, and… I wouldn't even know how to bring it up."

Spencer felt bile rise in her throat. To her, sex was such a beautiful thing. It had never been anything but amazing, liberating and uncomplicated in an exciting sort of way. She associated it with love and desire; she associated it with Toby. Sex was easily one of the top experiences of her entire adult life.

The mere idea that someone would turn into a means to hurt another person, especially if that person was an impressionable child, made her want to vomit.

"I think we're going to have to, Spence," Toby told her carefully. "I don't think one conversation is enough. They need to hear over and over how we'll _believe_ them if they ever…"

He didn't finish, and she felt her eyes glaze over with unshed tears.

For Spencer, sex had always been a beautiful thing – but it hadn't always been that way for Toby. And the most devastating part of it was… it could have been. It could have been if he'd had faith that his father would believe him if he reported he was being abused.

Spencer turned in the bathtub, sliding over to him. "They will," she vowed, sprinkling kisses along his neck and shoulder as she leaned her weight against his body. "They will know that, I promise."

And she stayed on his side of the tub with him until the water turned cold.

 _III_

Right away when Cleo walked in, her mother knew something was wrong.

The kindergartner had that troubled look in her eyes that Spencer had seen so many times on herself when she looked in the mirror. It was a look of hidden vulnerability, a look that warned people about prying on the off chance that they happened to notice it.

"What's wrong, pumpkin?" she asked, tucking a loose strand of the child's dark hair behind her ear.

The kids had asked to color a while ago, and had been perfectly happy when Spencer set them up with paper and crayons while she got started on dinner and waited for Toby to get home. Her ears hadn't picked up on any arguments coming from the living room, and she couldn't imagine what had prompted this change of mood in her daughter.

Cleo pouted, then shook her head stubbornly. "Nothing."

"You look unhappy," Spencer observed after a short pause. "I don't like when my kids are unhappy."

The little girl shrugged, but then mumbled sadly, "Ellie's drawings are always prettier than mine."

Spencer stopped stirring the spaghetti sauce and went very quiet as she studied her daughter. To someone who wasn't as familiar with the inner workings of this child's brain, it might have seemed like a petty remark that was sparked from the green-eyed monster also known as jealousy. But Spencer, too, was a perfectionist and she happened to understand her daughter perfectly.

The fact was that Cleo's drawings were better and more detailed than what you would expect from an average five-year-old, as were Lawrence's. But Eloise just had Toby's exceptional gift that allowed her to create things that were well beyond her years, and Cleo was starting to notice it.

"How does that make you feel?" Spencer prompted cautiously.

Again, Cleo shrugged, her little finger tracing the counter as if she was trying to distract herself. It was a while before she spoke hesitantly. "Like I don't matter."

Spencer's heart stalled out in her throat. It was as if this kid was reading her own insecurities word for word from a book.

She dropped her wooden spoon to the counter and knelt down before the girl. The way she saw it she had two options: she could tell Cleo that her drawing was very pretty too and she shouldn't compare herself to her sister, or she could be brutally honest with her.

"Listen to me," she said quietly. "You are talented at so many things, and I'm so proud of you for that. But some things Eloise might be better at, or Lawrence, or one of your friends. _It's okay_. No one can be the best at everything, and I will always be proud of you no matter what."

Despite her mother's encouraging words Cleo didn't look pleased. Close to tears was more like it, and Spencer reflexively pulled her closer.

"I know this isn't what you want to hear," she offered sympathetically. "And I know how you feel. I'm six times your age and it's still hard for me."

At this, Cleo's chocolate eyes widened in surprise. "It is?"

Spencer nodded easily, noting how Cleo still seemed unconvinced.

"But Mommy," she said. "You're good at everything."

For a moment Spencer was speechless, but then a small laugh escaped her. "I'm really not," she disagreed lightly, "but I'm glad it seems that way."

Cleo looked slightly less tormented now, and Spencer struggled to think of something that would take that last hint of gloom out of her eyes.

"You and me, we need to help each other, okay?" She took Cleo's tiny hands in hers. "We need to remind each other that it's okay if we're not perfect. Our family will love us anyway."

The kid perked up noticeably. "Can we be partners?"

"Sure," Spencer agreed, and Cleo beamed. Spencer smiled and held out her hands, requesting softly, "Can I have a hug?"

And Cleo threw herself in Spencer's arms with reckless abandon. The embrace was so heartfelt that Spencer mentally berated herself. She really should hug this child more. Lawrence was naturally affectionate and Eloise had a haunting delicacy about her that fueled Spencer's instincts to keep her close; Cleo was fiercely independent but that didn't mean she didn't crave that bodily contact just as much.

Spencer had been sixteen years old and deeply in love with Toby before she realized her whole life had been one silent cry for the physical affection he gave her. No way in hell was she letting that happen to her own kid.

Like clockwork, she heard keys in the lock, and suddenly things were only looking up.

"Daddy," Cleo exclaimed happily, pushing away from her mother and scampering down the hall, her earlier anguish forgotten. Spencer heard her little voice echo in undisguised delight, "Daddy, me and Mommy are _partners_!"

Toby's low chuckle accompanied his words. "Tell me something I don't know."

Seconds later he appeared in the doorway holding their daughter in his arms, and Spencer's heart involuntarily skipped a beat.

 _IV_

She knocked on the door of her childhood home, thinking she might still have a key somewhere but she hadn't thought to bring it. It had irked her more than she would have thought to leave her children behind in Rosewood for the day. She'd thought she was over this small-minded little town and the feeling of danger she'd come to associate it with, but apparently not.

However, when her mother had requested to spend the day with the triplets Spencer had a hard time saying no. Veronica wasn't perfect, but she was the only grandmother they would ever have and they barely got to see her as it was.

Plus, it had given her a whole day alone with Toby. She couldn't remember the last time that had happened, and now she felt refreshed in ways she couldn't even begin to describe. They'd had plans to fix things around the house, mow the lawn and take in the car in for its annual inspection. They did none of it.

Incidentally, Toby's whereabouts was the first thing Veronica inquired about when she opened the door. Spencer felt her cheeks turn pink at the idea of her mother even having a slight suspicion of what they'd engaged in most of the day.

"He went by his dad's place, he's picking us up when he's done," she explained truthfully, following Veronica down the hall. "How was the museum?"

"Fabulous," was her mother's reply, and she immediately engaged in a longwinded tale on how much the kids had learned and the different things they had absorbed in their young, eager brains.

Spencer wasn't surprised. Her children were smart as a whip, and of course her mother would pick up on that.

"By the way," Veronica suddenly changed the subject, sending her daughter a disapproving look, "what's this I hear about Eloise not being in the school play alongside her brother and sister?"

Spencer suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She wanted to discuss this with her mother like she wanted a root canal. "She _is_ the play; all the kids is their grade are. She's in the choir."

"Oh, please," the older woman scoffed. "Everyone knows the choir is for the mediocre kids who can't handle a feature part."

"She doesn't want a feature part," Spencer informed her, praying that her mother would understand the difference. "She wants to be in the choir."

"Then it's your job as her mother to encourage her to aim a little higher," Veronica retorted passionately, her eyes sending out annoyed signs of incomprehension.

"Mom," Spencer said warningly, halting in her footsteps to ensure the kids would not overhear. "I'm not going to put my child in a position that makes her uncomfortable. Especially not in front of two hundred parents and teachers."

"I think you underestimate her." Veronica must have realized she'd crossed a line because her tone was a little more even. "She'd be capable of so much more if you didn't coddle her so much."

This hit a nerve, and Spencer suddenly found herself livid. "It's not about coddling her! It's about letting her be who she is! Mom…" She dropped her bag to the floor and threw her head back, most of the anger leaving her voice. "She's not like you or me or Melissa or Cleo. She doesn't do well under pressure. She's too sensitive, and she withdraws when you don't let her do things at her own pace."

"She has just as much as potential as any of us," Veronica insisted stubbornly.

"I know that," Spencer spoke through gritted teeth. "But she'll never reach that potential if you continue to push her like this."

"Mommy?"

Spencer started when she heard the object of their conversation call out to her. Her daughter stood in the doorway, the pale eyes she shared with Toby wide and worried.

"Hey, peanut." Spencer forced a smile and held out arm as an open invitation for the child to come to her.

Eloise relaxed visibly and came to lean her body against her mother's thighs, plainly enjoying the way Spencer softly rubbed her back and smoothed out her long, yellowish hair.

"How are you?" Spencer wanted to know, admiring her lengthy eyelashes from above. "Did you have a good time with Grandma?"

The six-year-old nodded before admitting bravely, "Yes, but I missed you, Mommy."

Spencer felt her heart squeeze a little. Out of their three kids Eloise was by far the one most attached to her and Toby. Leaving her in the care of someone she wasn't completely comfortable with was always somewhat of a gamble.

Spencer bent down to kiss her head. "I missed you too, sweet pea," she murmured, and Eloise smiled faintly.

"Where's Daddy?" she wondered. Even her voice sounded like Toby's. It wasn't low and scratchy like her mother's. It was melodic. Smooth and sweet as honey.

"Oh… He had to run an errand real quick. But he'll be back soon and then we'll all go home, okay?"

Eloise nodded again, looking tired but happy. Home was her favorite place in the world. She said that all the time.

Spencer was aware of her mother's eyes on them, and her breath hitched when she noticed the way Veronica was looking at Eloise. There was real love there, tenderness, affection… but there was also pity.

She shook her head in disgust, gently took Eloise by the hand and went off in search of her other children.

 _V_

"Spencer!"

She flinched and halted on her way out the door. So close.

Her boss approached her, and she groaned inwardly at the heavy-looking folder he was carrying.

"I was hoping you could take a look at the Johnson file before you left for the day," he stated.

"I can't," Spencer told him apologetically. "My son has a ball game in twenty minutes."

"Oh…" He seemed to hesitate. "I'm sure it won't take long. Are you positive you can't…?"

He spontaneously stopped talking when he noticed Spencer was shaking her head.

"I'm sorry. Leave it on my desk, I'll get to it first thing in the morning," she promised.

The man looked somewhat disgruntled, but he didn't argue. He knew by now that there were certain things Spencer Cavanaugh didn't do, but she was still the greatest mind on his team and the most competent person he'd ever worked with.

"Fine," he sighed. "Tomorrow, then."

Spencer said her goodbyes respectfully and then all but raced to her car. Her right foot became extremely acquainted with the accelerator over the next quarter of an hour, and it was only when she'd reached her destination that she was able to take a deep breath.

The center of the field was still empty, but on opposite sides stood two teams of seven-year-old boys in contrasting uniforms. The game hadn't started yet. She wasn't a horrible mother after all.

She quickly headed for the bleachers, where she easily spotted Toby with the two girls. Cleo and Eloise sat side by side, looking adorable in their supporting baseball caps and jerseys. Their hair was braided into pigtails and they were each snacking on a hot dog. Toby sat next to them wearing a simple plaid shirt and a jacket, and Spencer smiled at the way he reached over Eloise to wipe some ketchup off the corner of Cleo's mouth with his thumb.

She couldn't help but think that both plaid and fatherhood never looked as good on any man as it did on him.

"Mom!"

She turned instinctively towards the sound of her son's voice to see him deserting the field and jogging over to her. Her heart tightened at the utter joy on his face that she had come to see him play.

"You made it," he said as Spencer drew him in for a hug.

"When have I ever not made it when I promised you I'd be there?" she admonished lightly.

"Never," the boy admitted somewhat sheepishly, and Spencer felt that familiar adoration for the unparalleled twinkle of mischief ever present in his dark eyes.

"That's right," she approved, lifting his baseball helmet from his head and attempting to tame his unruly light brown locks.

"Mom!" he whined, pushing her hands away and messing it up again.

Spencer rolled her eyes. This boy and his hair were going to be the death of her.

"You'd better go, looks like the game's about to start," she told him, nodding towards the field where the other boys were starting to line up. Their team was up to bat first.

"Okay," he said, taking back the helmet and turning in the direction of his teammates. He pretended to be annoyed when his mother pulled him back and planted a supportive kiss on his cheek.

"Knock 'em dead, tiger. Love you!" Spencer called after him, and he sent her one of his heartbreaker grins over his shoulder.

Toby spotted her as she made her way to the bleachers, and was pointing her out to the girls by the time she was within earshot.

"Mom, Daddy got you a hot dog," Cleo, who was closest, said with her mouth full.

"Well, hello to you, too," Spencer teased with a gentle tug on one of her daughter's dark braids in greeting. She stroked Eloise's cheek with her fingers and kissed her husband's lips.

He scooted over to make room for her, handing over the hot dog as she took her seat between him and Eloise. She felt horribly out of place in her business suit and heels, and he must have sensed the stress that had been building up in her body not just over the last twenty minutes but ever since parting with him this morning, because his hand soothingly cupped her knee.

"Relax," he told her evenly. "You're here now. Just enjoy."

She inhaled deeply to try and get her heartbeat to slow down a notch or two. Then she covered his hand with her own and looked to the field just in time to see Lawrence knock one out of the park.

 _VI_

Friday night date nights would typically start at 6:00 sharp, when the babysitter was at the door.

Spencer realized with some amusement how these nights had commenced earlier and earlier over the years. When the kids were babies, it had been a quick drink of only an hour in the pub around the corner. As toddlers, Spencer and Toby would feed them dinner and put them in pajamas before leaving for a late meal.

These days, at age eight, the kids were more independent than ever. They were long used to their parents spending Friday nights, which now consisted of dinner and a trip to the movies or the theater or a ball game, without them.

It was a tradition that had started when their trio was only six months old. Spencer had looked at Toby over the mess of dirty diapers, filthy onesies and general baby clutter, and realized she had never missed him so much in her life.

It had made her feel unspeakably guilty to leave her babies behind with a stranger while she went out for fun with Toby, even if it was only for an hour every week. She had felt like a terrible parent for wanting some time without them, but then she would look at Toby and think that the relationship with him was the longest and most important one she would ever form in her life. There were no words for how deeply she loved her children, but Toby was the person she had chosen to grow old with and she had vowed a long time ago that nothing would ever stand in the way of that.

She never expected the guilt she felt to turn into wonder and gratitude over the years. As the kids got older, Spencer took notice of how they flourished and blossomed from seeing their parents happy together. It eased their general anxiety. It gave them more confidence. It made them feel safe in ways that nothing else could compare.

It had taken her years to come to this conclusion, but Spencer now knew that the best thing she could ever do for her kids as their mother was keep her relationship with their father intact.

"Be good," she told them, throwing on her coat as she watched them from the doorway. She felt Toby's body move up behind her.

The kids barely looked up from the board game they were currently playing with their babysitter, a kind-spirited seventeen-year-old who had taken over Friday night babysitting duties from her older sister three years ago.

"Bye," Cleo said distractedly, while Lawrence called out, "Have fun!" and Eloise gave a simple wave.

Spencer's eyes met Toby's, who smiled and steered her in the direction of the car.

They had decided to try out a new French restaurant down town, and for the occasion Spencer had dressed up slightly more than she usually would. She grew increasingly aware of her husband eyeing her as they stepped outside.

"What?" she laughed.

He stopped in his tracks. He looked her up and down, and shook his head as if he thought something was funny.

"I'll never get used to how beautiful you are."

Her cheeks flushed, and she struggled to come up with a witty comeback.

"I'm serious," he went on earnestly. "You set unrealistic expectations for what a thirty-five-year-old mother of three looks like."

This made her laugh, and suddenly she knew exactly what to say. "All right, Cavanaugh. Cut the flattery and come make out with me."

He didn't need to be told twice. He was by her side in three quick strides, his lips crashing against hers as he lifted her off her feet in a totally over the top romantic gesture. She giggled into his mouth and trapped his head between her hands.

It was amazing, really. One kiss from him and she felt sixteen again.

"Think we put on a good show for the neighbors?" Toby asked teasingly as they got into the car a minute later.

Spencer snorted and reached for her seatbelt. "I'm sure the Andersons will have something to say about it," she replied dryly, referring to the elderly couple across the street who were always complaining about something.

"Do you ever think it's weird?" she asked when they were halted at a red light halfway to the restaurant, looking over at him. "That we only started going on actual dates _after_ we had our kids?"

It was something she'd been thinking about a lot lately. As teenagers and through their early twenties, they had barely known what a legitimate date looked like. They had spent their free time either doing something productive like hiking and playing Scrabble, or blocking out the world by crawling under a blanket with take-out and having movie marathons. It was only after they'd embarked on parenthood that they'd actually started 'dating' in the literal sense of the word.

Clearly, this was a complete one-eighty from the conventional process most married-with-children couples went through.

Toby smirked at her question. "Well… we never did much the normal way, did we?"

She smiled back wistfully. She'd been in love with him for over half her life now, and this made her feel quite sentimental as she reached out to run her hand across his forehead lovingly.

"I wouldn't change it," she murmured.

Her fingers trailed down the side of his face and Toby turned his head to kiss them. "Neither would I."

Tomorrow was Saturday, and that was the kids' day. That was the day that Spencer and Toby took them out outings and road trips, trying to ensure that when they were grown they would be able look back on their childhoods and say it consisted of more than sitting in a corner with their nose in a book.

But today was Friday. Fridays were sacred and nonnegotiable, and Fridays would always be theirs.


End file.
